


Fifty Dollars and a Pizza

by saibugs



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: College AU, I'll update these tags as I write more chapters, Multi, University AU, rvb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saibugs/pseuds/saibugs
Summary: Going to a prestigious university wasn't supposed to turn into this. And it all started with an offer to get smashed, fifty dollars, and a pizza after a mistranslated question.





	1. Chapter One

Wash swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat as he looked up at the prestigious university. He still couldn’t quite believe he was here, but that wasn’t the real reason he was afraid.

Since his mother had left their abusive father, Wash and his sisters had been lost in the world. Rosalie Washington had managed to secure work, but her four kids had had their entire lives uprooted. For the other three, that wasn’t so bad. They could make new friends; Evangeline and the twins were still in high school. But Wash? He had never been the most social person. Nineteen years old and lacking friends that he could go to if he needed them. They’d all moved away or had gone on to greater things.

Or, in his boyfriend’s case, had been horrifically killed in a car accident.

He sighed as he pulled himself away from those thoughts and headed up the stairs, heading towards the dorms. His family didn’t live close enough for him to attend, so he was forced to move into the campus dormitories. He was just glad for the scholarship; it was paying for everything provided he kept his grades up, taking pressure off his mum.

As he made his way into his assigned room, he noticed that his roommate was already set up. The man sitting on the bed was grinning at him, his blue eyes – shocking to Wash, considering the man’s skin colour – gleaming with a mischievous light.

“Yo, you David?” he drawled, sitting up and leaning forward. His dreadlocks were tied back into a ponytail, but one escaped and brushed against his cheek. That grin never left.

“Uh…” Wash took a moment to compose himself. “Um, yes. David. I go by Wash, though.” He wheeled his suitcase over to the bed and hefted it onto the mattress. “What’s your name?”

“Lavernius Tucker.” He stuck his hand out, and Wash shook his after a brief hesitation. Once he’d pulled away, Tucker rested his elbows on his knees and asked, “What’re you here for?”

The question – more so, how it was worded – confused Wash. “You speak as if this is a prison.”

Tucker shrugged. “Eh. It could be, as far as I’m concerned. The only reason I’m here is because I need a degree if I want work.” He looked curious as Wash began to unpack his suitcase and sort everything out. “Dude, did you seriously manage to pack all your shit into _that_?!”

“I don’t own much.” He pulled out his laptop and sat it on the small desk in his half of the room. “I’m here on scholarship to do a degree in psychology.”

He would have said more, but Tucker’s phone rang, and he answered it. Wash fell quiet as he did so, tuning the conversation out as he put two photos on the desk. One of him, his mother, and his sisters… and one of him with his boyfriend, affectionately known as Maine. His eyes teared up as he stared at the photo. He remembered that day too well; it had been mere hours before he’d received the tragic news.

Finally he realised Tucker was attempting to get his attention, and he turned around just to be tossed a key. “For the dorm,” was the nonchalant explanation before his roommate left, leaving Wash alone in this small, unfamiliar room. He immediately felt claustrophobic and swallowed, pushing the window open in hopes it would help.

* * *

In the hours Tucker was gone, Wash had managed to organise his timetable and plan out his day to day life. He liked the organisation; it kept him grounded.

He was laying on his bed attempting to have a nap when Tucker burst into the room. Wash groaned but opened his eyes as he heard talking, looking over to see two people with him. One was tall, ginger, and relatively quiet. His clothing indicated he was the sort of stereotypical nerd. The other, by comparison, was hardly that: tanned, chubby, a little short.

“Yo, who’s that?” the shorter newcomer asked Tucker, gesturing over at Wash. “New roomie?”

“Yeah!” Tucker threw himself on Wash’s bed, to much alarm. Wash immediately scrambled away, feeling a bit attacked and nervous. All three sort of shared confused looks at that before Tucker poked Wash’s leg. “Dude.”

“Don’t touch me.” He pulled his legs to his chest and hugged them. “Please.”

Tucker pouted. “Oh, come on. They didn’t lump me in with some sort of germaphobe, did they?”

“Is it so bad if they did?” the ginger asked, sitting on Tucker’s bed. His friend sat beside him, and Wash took note of how close they were. “It’d be better than living with Grif here.”

“Oi.” Grif smacked him on the back of the head.

The ginger winced, but said no more as Wash said, “I’m not a germaphobe.” He swallowed as Tucker didn’t move. “Look, can you get off my bed, please?”

“Sure, if you answer a question.”

Wash rolled his eyes. “Fine, what is it?”

“Wanna come drinking with us tomorrow?”

He was taken aback by the question. “Wh…?!” He’d been asked that question so many times before by his friends that saying yes had become second nature to him. But that had been almost a year ago. Now, he was reluctant. He didn’t even know these people…

So what made him want to go?

“Well?” Grif asked. “You comin’ or what?”

“I…” He swallowed. “Depends if it’s during the day.”

“No, it’s at night.” The ginger seemed relieved as Grif spoke. “ _Somebody_ didn’t want to skip classes.”

“Not my fault I actually _like_ my classes!”

“Yes it is.” Grif grinned. “Oh, by the way, this is Simmons.”

Wash raised an eyebrow. “Do you all go by your last names?” he queried.

Tucker nodded. “But if you prefer calling everyone by their first names, Grif’s Dexter and Simmons is Dick.”

An awkward silence ensued, and Wash didn’t exactly know what to say except… “I’m assuming your first name is actually Richard.”

He nodded a bit, then checked the time on his phone. His eyes widened and he shot to his feet, hurrying out. Grif watched him go, then lazily stood and rolled his shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tucker. Don’t skip class again.” A shit-eating grin appeared on his face as he left, and both Tucker and Wash watched them go.

Nothing was said between the pair for a brief period, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Soon, Wash asked Tucker if he’d had dinner yet, and if he would like some.

Tucker blinked. “Did you just offer to buy me dinner?”

Wash stared blankly at him. “I offered to cook dinner.”

“No you didn’t.” Tucker grinned, flashing all his teeth. “You totally offered to buy me dinner.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Shit. “Fine, I’ll buy dinner. Pizza fine with you?”

“Hell yeah it is!” Tucker’s grin stretched wider, then fell within seconds. “Wait, you said you were here on scholarship. Do you have money?”

Thankfully he’d covered this. “Yeah. I have a job at the local Starbucks.” He pulled out his wallet and searched through it, finding a fifty. “Here we go, this should cover pizza.” He smiled a bit at Tucker’s gobsmacked expression. “Feel free to order whatever.”

There was silence, and then: “Dude, you’re fucking awesome.”


	2. Chapter Two

“Here you go.” Wash set the coffee down on the counter and pushed it over to the young lady. “Have a nice day.”

She nodded and smiled politely at him before grabbing her fancy frappuccino before hurrying out. He sighed and began to make someone else’s order, but the bell tinged; someone wanted assistance. Since he was the only one not in the middle of an order he hurried over to the counter and rang the order through, then went back to making drinks with so many ingredients he struggled to comprehend how they could taste remotely like coffee.

“Oi.”

Wash looked up only to have lukewarm coffee thrown in his face. He recognised the customer, but hadn’t made his drink; that had been one of his coworkers. “Agh!”

“You son of a bitch! I asked for _soy_ milk, not your stupid regular milk!”

“I…” Wash stumbled over his words. “Would you like me to remake it for you?” he asked, despite having not made it originally.

“No, I want you to shove it up your ass!” The guy threw the empty cup into the bin and stormed out. Silence filled the Starbucks, and Wash couldn’t help but sigh as his manager came over and kindly told him to go home. After clocking out and telling the boss what had happened, Wash – coffee-soaked and tired – headed to the student accommodation.

He met Tucker on the way there. His roommate was just coming out of classes, and grinned as he walked up, although his smile fell when he saw the state Wash was in. “Dude, what the fuck happened to you?”

“Disgruntled customer threw his coffee on me. It happens sometimes.” He ran a hand through his hair as they got to the dorms and headed to their room. “Take my advice and don’t get a job as a barista.”

“I’ll take that,” he laughed, pulling out his keys and unlocking their door before going inside. “Still up for comin’ out with us tonight?”

Wash had completely forgotten about that, but he wasn’t backing out. After the events of today he felt like he deserved a drink. “Sure,” he laughed. “Just let me go shower and change first.”

“Sure.” Tucker threw himself on his bed as Wash grabbed his towel and a change of clothes, then hurried out. He hated the communal showers with a passion, but he still needed to get clean, so he put up with them. Mostly.

* * *

Upon his return, Washington was surprised to see Grif and Simmons there, along with two more figures. They all fell quiet as he walked in, with the two strangers staring at him.

Or, well, one of them was a stranger.

The woman grinned and stood up. “Hey, Wash.” Her red hair was tied back into a low ponytail, and she still had that confident, cocky look to her eyes she’d had when they were younger. “Didn’t realise you attended school here.”

Wash threw his dirty clothes into a washing basket and smiled. “Hey Lina.” He walked over and hugged her, a gesture she returned before pushing him to arm’s length and checking him.

Finally, she said, “You look better.”

He knew why she was saying that. “That may be so, but I’m still not alright.” He pulled away and sat on the bed. “Who’s this?”

Sensing that Wash wanted to avoid the conversation, she smiled and said, “This is Leonard Church, my brother.”

“I thought that was your dad’s name.”

“It’s also my brother’s name,” she laughed. Wash nodded and looked over at Church, who looked tired, but still managed a smile for him. His green eyes were the only thing that marked him as Carolina’s sibling; he looked nothing like the rest of the family. And Wash had met Doctor Church before.

“You two know each other?” Tucker interrupted, curious.

Carolina nodded. “Wash and I were in the same friend group in high school.” She patted Wash’s head, much to his annoyance. “He’s a year younger than us, though, so when we graduated he… didn’t.” She looked down. “Then he graduated a year later… and, well… that day, we all just… drifted apart.”

Church finally spoke. “Because of that one thing.” He didn’t mention the actual event, and for that, Wash was incredibly grateful. But now, Tucker, Grif, and Simmons were all sharing looks, wondering what had happened. But they all were too kind to ask further, especially when they all saw the expression on Wash’s face.

Grif abruptly attempted to change the subject. “So, Caboose is meeting us there.”

“Sweeeeeet,” Tucker laughed, the sombreness forgotten. “Let’s go, I am so fucking ready!” He ran out, excited, and the others followed while they laughed.

* * *

The bar was dimly lit and smelled of sweat and booze. It was a familiar scent to the group, and Grif and Tucker seemed to become more animated as they pushed through the crowds of people.

As they ordered drinks for everyone Wash saw a happy, curly-haired person talking to Simmons with child-like enthusiasm. He blinked as they came over, with Simmons introducing the man as Michael Caboose. Caboose was ecstatic to meet Wash, and didn’t shake his hand like Wash expected; instead, he pulled the blond into a tight, warm bear hug.

“Hi!” he almost squealed. “I have a feeling this will be the best. FRIENDSHIP. EVER!”

Wash couldn’t help but laugh at that. Drinks were soon served and tensions between the group dissipated. Wash felt comfortable enough to laugh and joke with them, and while Carolina and Church left a few hours in, he found himself at ease. He laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe at Caboose’s mannerisms, egged Grif on when he found out the man had an enormous crush on Simmons, and drank more than he’d ever drunk before.

He was fine, though… at least until he got home.

As he and Tucker stumbled into the door, laughing loudly and still holding a bottle of beer each – they’d lost track of how many they’d had over the hours – Wash felt a stirring in his stomach. He stopped dead before shoving his beer into Tucker’s hand (which earned him a slurred, “Dude, I don’t want it!”) and stumbling towards the bathrooms.

Tucker found him puking his guts up. He was more sober than Wash, able to hold his liquor. Wash hadn’t gone for drinks like that since the accident, and right now he was paying for it. His grip on the toilet seat was so tight his knuckles had gone white, and only about half the time did something come up. The mix was a horrid brown colour, alcohol littered with remnants of a mostly-digested croissant. It wasn’t very pleasant.

He groaned. “Never. Again.”

“You say that now.” Tucker rubbed his back as he lifted his head and leaned back a bit. “You’ll be back out with us next month.”

“Mrrrpphh…” He gagged and managed to lean over the bowl moments before more vomit came up. It burned his throat and made him whimper, but that was the last of it. The nausea was still there, but less troublesome. An anti-nausea tablet and some water and he’d be right.

He finally managed to drag himself to bed. Tucker got him water and some tablets, getting one for himself as well before throwing himself on top of his blankets. But Wash didn’t see that; he was fast asleep the second his head had hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter Three

The teacher’s words blurred together into some sort of nonsensical noise, and Wash found himself dozing off despite his best efforts and about three energy drinks. The morning had gone poorly for him; he’d woken up late, with no time to get a coffee or some greasy food to fill his belly. Tucker had been out like a smashed headlight when he’d left, and he’d been feeling queasy ever since he’d walked in the classroom. It was the harsh fluorescent lights setting him off.

Thankfully this was one of the classes he shared with Simmons, so the ginger was writing down notes for the both of them… after some laughter on his part. Simmons wasn’t a big drinker, and although he refused to explain why it was great for the hungover Washington.

Once they were allowed to do an in-class reading, Wash lethargically looked over and groaned, “Who’s idea was it to get drunk when we had class the next day?”

“I think it was Tucker’s and Grif’s,” he mused, grinning as he took a photo of his notes and sent it to Wash’s phone. “You don’t look so good. Is this your only class today?”

“Yeah, but I got work right after.” He flopped and headbutted the desk. “I haven’t eaten. I’m surviving on energy drinks and pain.” His gaze fell on the notes. “I… I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” Simmons blinked at him in curious confusion.

“Brain not working.” Wash twiddled his fingers at his head. “Fuck.”

Simmons couldn’t help but laugh. He put headphones in and read the work, noting things down and occasionally photographing them for Wash’s benefit. Wash, instead of doing the reading, took a nap on the desk.

He was woken by Simmons, and they left class together. He felt worse, in fact, and decided that he needed to call in sick. A quick text reliant on autocorrect to make it resemble anything _human_ , and he was heading straight back to his dorm, to bed. Tucker was absent, but the blond didn’t even care where his roommate was as he flopped on top of the sheets and closed his eyes. His sleep was not restful, though. It was full of terrors; fire, blood, smoke, screaming. Maine. A broken promise.

“NO!!” he screamed as he shot awake, sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe. There was a shocked exclamation as Tucker, sitting on the other bed, jumped before sprinting over and trying to comfort his roommate.

It took a while before Washington was calm enough to talk, and when he did, he broke down and told Tucker everything about the accident. About Maine. About _them_. Tucker just listened, his heart in his throat, before he finally offered to lay with Wash so the blond could attempt to sleep a bit better.

He blinked, but… “Please?” he asked weakly. “I’ve had a shit day…”

“Okay. Lay down.”

Wash did so, and Tucker laid beside him. They remained atop the covers, although Tucker put his arm around the blond and pulled him close. He supervised Wash as he slept, and blinked when Wash’s head ended up against his chest.

Something about this vulnerability stirred something up in Tucker’s heart, and he bit his lip before gently stroking the blond’s hair. This seemed to work in regards to relaxing him, surprising the man.

They stayed like this for countless hours. Tucker ended up falling asleep, his head resting against Wash’s. Grif and Simmons came by, saw this, snapped a rather incriminating photo, and fled without waking them up. It was only when Tucker’s phone rang did either of them wake up and realise what they were doing.

“Oh.”

“Well.”

Tucker awkwardly moved away from him and picked up his phone. Wash sat up slowly as Tucker answered only to choke on saliva and screech, “WHAT THE FUCK GRIF?!” There was a pause and silence, broken by growling. “DEXTER GRIF, I’M GOING TO KICK YOU SO HARD IN THE NUTS THEY END UP IN YOUR THROAT.”

Wash heard the cackling just as Tucker aggressively ended the call and slammed his phone down on the desk. “What was that about?”

“Grif and Simmons have made a mistake,” he fumed, shaking, “and I’m going to go end their lives.” He went to walk out, only for Wash’s fingers to wrap around his wrist and tighten.

“Don’t go.”

Tucker blinked before going over to him and sitting down on his bed. “You… don’t want me to go…?”

Wash shook his head weakly. “No… I… Please… stay with me… I don’t want to be alone… I…” In his hungover state, he was remembering the drunk driver and the accident and the fire and the heartbreak and the—

Tucker suddenly hugged him tightly.

Wash’s breath caught in his throat as he was cuddled. He didn’t really know what to think, but he certainly began to tear up. He returned the hug slowly, digging his fingers into the warm skin on Tucker’s back, gripping the cotton of his shirt and just… holding on. He didn’t want to let go…

They separated only when they were both hungry, and decided to get some grub. Since neither could be bothered cooking it was fast food on the menu tonight. Wash let Tucker choose; food ended up being burgers and fries. Greasy and fattening, but exactly what both needed. Especially Wash, who was so hungry he ended up eating _two_ meals. Tucker laughed at this, but didn’t criticise him, just letting him have his food.

They then headed home, and watched Netflix in silence together. Wash rested against Tucker’s shoulder, and automatically Tucker’s hand was stroking his hair. Neither of them questioned this, even falling asleep again like this. It was comfortable, warm, and stopped the terrors. Wash hadn’t felt this safe since Maine… and he was happy with it.

* * *

“Wash!”

“Uh?!” He sat up so fast he didn’t see Tucker’s face so close to his, and smashed his forehead against his roommate’s. Tucker shrieked and recoiled, holding his face and groaning in pain. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry!”

“It’s… ugh.” He realigned his nose. “You’re late for class.”

Wash’s eyes widened as he leapt out of bed, gathered his bag, slid on a pair of flip-flops and sprinted out. Tucker was impressed that he could run in them but he didn’t see that, instead getting to class just in time. He whipped out his notebook and pen, scribbling down everything that he could. His notes ended up making little sense but he didn’t care; he could sort all that out later.

After class he headed straight to work. He expected to get through the shift with little drama; it was a Wednesday, hump day. A lot of people were in high spirits because it marked the halfway point to the weekend. Unfortunately for Wash, it was not the case today.

He had just finished making a customer’s drink and called their name when it happened. The customer took the drink, sipped it as they began to walk away from the counter, then stopped dead as Wash went over to the register. She flipped out all of a sudden, screaming profanity and throwing her drink all over Wash’s face. He yelped in alarm as she reached over the counter and grabbed his apron, then assaulted him with a series of punches and slaps.

Other baristas and servers yelled and attempted to protect their young co-worker. Even civilians stepped in to assist, but some copped blows to the faces and arms.

Only when the police were called did the situation was diffused. Wash was pulled into the backroom and tended to. He was sobbing and shaking, hysterical when questioned, and hardly able to use his phone to call Tucker to come get him. Why Tucker? He didn’t know. But he managed to send a text riddled with mistakes, and his roommate got there in ten minutes to take him home. He was accompanied by Grif and Simmons, and the three of them escorted him back to the student dorms.

“Grif, Simmons, can you go get Wash something to eat?” Tucker asked the pair as he put Wash to bed. The blond wasn’t calming down at all, and hid under the blankets. He only emerged when the pair returned half an hour later with a few baked potatoes and some icecream.

Yet even when offered the potatoes he barely ate. He didn’t accept the icecream at all, just picking at the potatoes and worrying everyone.

“Do you have class tomorrow?” Simmons asked worriedly as he put the icecream in the freezer for later.

“No…,” Wash whimpered, putting the potatoes aside. “I… don’t want to go to work…”

“I don’t think you should.” Tucker grimaced. “I have classes tomorrow morning, but I’ll be back by the afternoon.”

“We’ll come and check on him tomorrow, how about that?” Grif asked as he and Simmons went to leave.

Tucker nodded, watching them depart before feeling a pair of arms wrap around one of his. He looked down to see Wash clinging to him quietly, shivering and tearful. This broke his heart, and abruptly all he wanted to do was soothe his roommate.

Without thinking about the consequences, Tucker tilted Washington’s chin up and kissed him gently.


End file.
